Going Out With a Bang
by rochellie98
Summary: Sherlock has a new neighbour, but will he end up shooting her? What if she suddenly falls for John, and she threatens their friendship? OC and John/Sherlock maybe. I'll see.
1. Chapter 1

BANG. BANG. BANG.

Three shots were fired into the wall. All fell short of their target but the firer wasn't fussed about where they landed. He was bored. So very bored, that he had resorted to shooting the wall. He just wanted something to do, and shooting things was mildly interesting.

His flatmate returned with fingers shoved deep into his ears, a look of deep annoyance on his face.

'What the HELL are you doing?'

'I'm bored!' The man in the chair whined. He stood up and fired three more shots into the wall, this time hitting the intended target, a yellow smiley face spray painted onto the garish wallpaper.

'Sherlock, that doesn't mean you can shoot the wall!'

'Bored! I need something to do.'

'Yes I know you're bored, you have been for the past week.'

'So tell me you have some good news, John, please!'

'By good news do you mean bad news for someone else?'

'Must you put it that way?'

'Yes.'

BANG.

One more shot was fired into the wall, causing the man, John, to jump. He proceeded to tackle the gun out of Sherlock's hand and take out the magazine, placing it on the table. Sherlock collapsed into the nearest chair and sighed.

A small cough sounded in the doorway.

Both men turned, the taller turning at a slightly more leisurely pace than the other.

A woman with one eye made up and the other with a dark streak of eyeliner going straight up to her eyebrow leaned against the doorframe with a small smirk on her lips.

'Sorry to disturb you gentlemen, but I was wondering if you would be so kind as to _stop shooting my wall._'

Sherlock looked put out. The small man, John, thought this was a bit much from him seeing as he was the one causing all the trouble.

'I wasn't shooting your wall. I was shooting Mrs Hudson's wall. A slight difference.'

He stood up and walked over to the door, placing a hand on the doorknob. The dismissal in his eyes and stance was very hard to miss.

The small woman looked up at him and frowned.

'Look, I'm new next door-'

'I can tell.' Sherlock said lazily, examining his nails.

She woman sighed and shook her head slightly, widening her eyes in exasperation. She could tell this was going to take a while.

'And I feel we have got off on the wrong foot. I am having a very nice, _quiet _party to celebrate my move-'

'Why would you do that?'

'Sherlock…'

'Because I just moved, that's why.' She spoke slowly, as if talking to an idiot or a child.

Of course, Sherlock was neither, although he did act like the latter.

The dark haired man feigned interest.

'Oh really, where did you move to?'

The woman turned to John.

'Is he always like this? Or is it just me.'

'No. He's like this with everyone. Even the people at Scotland Yard.'

She smiled at him, apparently pleased with the friendly response.

'Shall we start again? My name is Sophie Collins and I'm your new neighbour. I would invite you to my little get together but I have a feeling you would decline.'

John smiled at her graciously.

'I would accept but I think Sherlock here would rather shoot walls.'

Sherlock coughed from behind the door, where he seemed to have retreated.

Sophie looked at him with interest. Any hostility she may have felt towards him seemed to disappear.

'Ah, Sherlock Holmes? Excellent!' She reached out to shake his hand. He just stared at her like she had some contagious disease. She withdrew it with a puzzled expression. She looked over at the other man still leaning against the table on which he had put the gun. Smiling at him she walked over and shook his hand instead.

'And you must be John Watson. A friend of mine showed me your blog. Very good by the way, regularly check up on you and your…' She trailed of, seemingly looking for an appropriate word. 'Adventures.'

Sherlock scoffed.

Sophie changed the subject.

'My friend said he knows you from Afghanistan. Do you remember an Alfie Robinson?'

Johns blue eyes lit up.

'I do remember him. Wow, he's still around? He saved my life at least twice out there, a real hero that man. Would he by any chance be at your party?'

She laughed pleasantly, showing rather a lot of slightly crooked teeth.

'Yes he would and would you like t-'

Sherlock groaned and jumped like a fish onto the sofa.

'Is this conversation going to get any more _boring?_ If it is, I want you to leave. Go back to your little party, go get your make up done all pretty, flirt with the man you so desperately want to be there and _get out of my flat!_'

She looked taken aback to say the least.

'Don't listen to him, he's just bored.'

'No, really?' Sherlock's sarcastic comment floated from the cushion where he had firmly planted his face. 'Go to her party John, leave me to rot alone here while you talk to your army friends and eat little biscuits. Tell me _all_ about it later.'

'If you're going to behave like a child about it I can go tell Lestrade to stop calling you with cases that you might find interesting.'

Sherlock's head rolled out from the pillow, eyes narrowed to slits.

'You wouldn't dare…'

Sophie coughed again in the back of her throat.

'If you wouldn't mind, I have guests arriving soon. Will I see you there John?'

'Yes, as soon as I can get him to bed with a glass of hot milk and a cookie. Which number flat is it?'

'Number 220b.'

'Brilliant, I'll see you there!'


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: So… completely forgot that I can do this now. Feels good! The inspiration bunny just keeps on coming back and dumping ideas on me. Not all of them are good. Or publishable. **

**Disclaimer: I obviously don't own this; otherwise I wouldn't be on this site. It all belongs to the trolls who came up with this brilliant miniseries, Mofftiss. They alone own my fantasy's. **

**On with the rubbish!**

John spent at least four long hours at Sophie's apartment. Sherlock, although he would deny it later, spent at least two of them trying to listen in with his ear pressed against a glass at the thinnest part of the wall, just behind the picture of the skull. The conversations were dull, mostly about work and the current economic climate. Until John brought up Sherlock briefly, mentioning his flatmates tendency to blow things up. That was met with general laughter and a sharp quip from the hostess. Something about how she could blow things up too. Highly inappropriate, Sherlock thought.

Questions like 'So is he your boyfriend' and 'What do you do now you've left the army?' came up once or twice. The fact that the guests had to ask more than once proved to Sherlock how stupid they were. And they were _extremely_ stupid. One worked for the police force, another as a bartender. There was a couple with three children and closet homosexual by the sounds of it. In fact, the gay man, by the name of Dylan, Sherlock picked up, was hitting on John.

For some reason he found this both very funny and very annoying. John was his to –

The tall man cringed away from that though almost as soon as it came into his head. John wasn't his anything. He was his friend yes, but that was as far as their relationship went. As far as it would ever go.

Sherlock tried to tell himself he didn't mind that at all. Actually it didn't take too much convincing. He just imagined John wearing nothing but his horrible Christmas jumper and _any _even slightly arousing or jealous thoughts were quickly chased away. Let Dylan have him, he thought. I have my work.

And with that he detached himself from the wall, and went back to plotting a way to find his gun, which John had hidden in a surprisingly good secret space in the flat.

.

If Sherlock had kept listening for a little while longer, he might of heard some rather interesting developments in number 220b Baker Street.

For example, the rather suggestive conversation starting between a certain army doctor and the new owner of a rather expensive flat. The blonde woman sitting close to John was plucking at his jumper and smiling crookedly, he blue eyes twinkling mischievously. They were both rather rudely blocking out the other guests, focusing solely on each other.

'So, Johnny, tell me all about your adventures with Sherlock Holmes. I know quite a bit about them already from your fascinating blog, but I need the emotional details here. Did you ever get… scared? Freak out in the face of danger?'

Sophie looked sincere and cautious at the same time. John noted that she was actually pretty underneath a slightly nutty looking appearance.

John looked down and started playing with the edge of Sophie's blue cardigan.

'Yes, I did sometimes. Other times it's not worth the bother, ol' Sherly always manages to find a way out. Did you read about the bomber Moriarty and how he strapped a bomb to a child? He made this kid start counting down to his own death. And Sherlock solved the puzzle in 9 seconds! It was amazing. But honestly, I was getting really very terrified his clever would run out, you know. But it didn't. And we all survived, obviously. But there are times you can doubt him and-'

He was stopped abruptly by a soft pair of lips sealing over his own. His eyes widened in shock. He didn't even know this woman! What was going on? Has the world gone completely insane? If it has, then obviously kissing complete strangers whilst they were talking about their best friend was acceptable here.

He pulled away and for some reason she just giggled drunkenly and covered her mouth with a dainty hand.

'Sorry! It was an accident!' She shook her head and revised what she was saying. 'Well, it wasn't an accident but I didn't mean to- I mean I meant to but- well your lips looked so kissable!'

John was taken aback. No one had ever called him kissable before. Ever. In his rather fruitful life. No one. Had ever. Called John Watson. Kissable.

And it was hilarious.

Only someone who had seen him in action, both terms accepted, would disagree with Sophie.

He had been called quite a few things, killable actually happening to be one of them.

And because of this incredibly cute new adjective for himself, he kissed her again.

Properly.

**AN (again) **

**Right. I know I'm new at this, you can probably tell, but I personally think that was all right. Maybe a bit rushed, but then again so am I. Busy busy busy. **

**Now. Do you see that little button? Isn't it adorable! Don't you just want to click it and make me smile? You do, because if you send me lovely reviews, virtual hugs are on the way. **

**And not so lovely reviews as well. They help a lot I'm told ;)**


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